Solidarity
by Sakyh
Summary: "Whatever direction you're heading, I'll be sure to follow by your side." An Obi x Shirayuki Collection.
_Hello there, and welcome to my first AnS fanfic and first fanfic that I've posted since 5 years ago! I'm a slow and rusty writer, but please R &R if you enjoy my work so I know to keep writing and improving. Happy reading :)_

 _This takes place during the Tanbarun Arc before the night of the ball._

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 **1**  
 **The Illusion**

The midnight air is charged with uncertainty.

But Obi swears that Tanbarun air is lighter than the air in Clarines. When Shirayuki, bright-eyed and eager to return to the familiar feeling of her homeland, asks him why during the carriage ride earlier that week, he simply claims: "With as much forest as we have in Clarines comes great responsibility!" She tilts her head to the side in a lack of understanding, so he adds, "I mean to say that it's because it rains a lot, Little Miss."

Now, without a single cloud in the sky, the air is stifling and paralyzing and he doesn't know why.

Obi settles on the ledge of the balcony, his chin resting on a propped arm. The quiet air, still weighing heavy on his skin, begins to move in steady currents through his hair and clothes. It catches beneath his scarf and through the thinness of his shirt, dark and fitted and free in comparison to the stiff lines of his borrowed guardian uniform. To his surprise, there is no relief in the wind, no enlightening cool. Every breath of air still rests on his tongue.

In the distance, undulating shadows of the mountains skirt the borders of capitol walls. He can't even make out what lies beneath their room with the amount of running ivy in the way of his line of sight. Compared to the well-lit stretch of walkways of the Wistaria Castle, those of Shenazard castle are compressed by after-hour darkness.

He turns to lean back against the ledge and face his room, positioning his arms behind him to support his weight. From above, light spills through the window's tempered glass and into the room, fractured and scattered against the shadowed curtains and canopies. He casts his gaze upward, neck craned back and head resting in the hammock of his taut shoulders. A full moon tonight, he realizes. The clouds are departed and the stars are gathered from far and wide, dusting around a blue moon. It appears that Tanbarun isn't the only one holding a grand ball this week.

Tonight, the moon is a chandelier that hangs from the high ceiling of the sky. Nothing more than a pretty illusion. After years of nocturnal roaming, he knows this well.

With a swift push, he's propelled onto his feet. Between the suffocating air and haze of the moon, Obi doesn't know how much more he could take of being exposed to the outside. He pulls the balcony doors shut behind him, which are too tall and allowed in too much light for his liking, and retreats into the dark of the room.

He lets himself fall onto the bed, face first and without regard. For a while, there is nothing and he is without his senses. When they return, he melts into the sheets, taking in their foreign scent. Everything is foreign. He finds himself on a foreign bed in a foreign country under a foreign sky and beside himself with a foreign feeling.

He pushes onto his side and takes his left hand into the dancing moonlight, breaking its streams into rays that illuminate his fingers like a halo. Empty. So why does it continue to hold on to moments from today?

At the tip of his fingers is a memory that still lingers on his skin. A sweet phantom that occupies the hours in his day and haunts his thoughts at night. She smiles, for it is her greatest weapon. Her smile, full and honest, could bring a man to his knees. Even in its perilous presence, Obi realizes that despite knowing better, he has been in constant pursuit of it since the day she first fell into his arms and brushed through his fingers.

The corner of his lip upturns in a smirk at the irony he finds himself in. What kind of man chases a phantom around all day?

His expression soon drops and his arm does the same, plopped across his eyes and depriving his sight of the remnants of the moon in his room. The moon won't stop playing tricks on his mind. But even in his empty vision, she is there, smiling brighter than a thousand moons.

"It's happened before." He has to reassure himself out loud. The words aren't real if they only exist in his head.

She appears again through the cracks of his vision, this time with locks of red hair tamed by a plethora of pins to reveal the contours of her neck. There is an abundance of summer's green in her eyes and in her dress that lifts his spirit. At the periphery of his vision, a dangling object winks in the sunlight and emerges from the roots of her pulled back hair. He remembers the jolt of his heart upon seeing her wear the trinket, which hadn't meant much to him then but might hold more meaning now.

He lets his arm slide off his face as the vision disintegrates into reality, a wave of defeat overcoming his mind and relaxing the tension in his muscles. His body tells him not to fight the feeling. There is nothing left to try to understand or make sense of - now is the time to simply feel. Take a deep breath. Give in.

So he gives in.

"It means nothing, right?"

He knows that those words are nothing more than a pretty illusion.


End file.
